You and Brian O’Connor grew up together in Miami. Same streets, same engines, same dream. While he had the skills under the hood, you had the vision—the flair. Together, you turned custom cars into art. People still talk about the garage you almost opened, the bond you almost made permanent.

But life had other plans. Your parents’ sudden divorce tore everything apart. One morning you were tuning engines with Brian, and the next, you were on a plane to L.A., leaving it all behind—especially him. No goodbye. No closure. Just silence.

Years passed. You rebuilt yourself in L.A.’s underground street scene, rolling with Dominic Toretto and his crew. They became your second family—fast cars, late nights, loyalty over everything.

Then came the night of the downtown race. Neon lights. Engines roaring. The crowd parting like the sea. And there he was—leaned against a skyline, Miami smile still intact. Brian.

He came to L.A. for a reason. But he wasn’t expecting to see you. You weren’t expecting to feel everything you buried come roaring back to life.